


A Not So Secret Anthropophagiac

by RayToTheMax



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, GTA AU, M/M, MadHouse Members - Freeform, Mentions of Sex, Minor Character Death, Origin Story, Ryan's twitch community - Freeform, SortaMalicious Vagabonds - Freeform, Vagabond's Vagabonds, just plot, not really porn, semi explicit, vagabonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9242948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayToTheMax/pseuds/RayToTheMax
Summary: Anthropophagic: A person who eats human flesh; a cannibal.Marc moved to Los Santos for a lot of reasons. Money flowed through the city faster than blood could. Marc liked money, he liked blood too, but it was easier to steal someone's watch than their blood. Easier to pay the rent with too.The origin story (and subsequent tales) of a Vagabond who never meant to impersonate, but likes to play along.Written for DmitriMolotov's "Los Santos Vagabonds"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DmitriMolotov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmitriMolotov/gifts).



Marc’s head snapped up when the wheels of his plane touched the ground. The jostling roughly rousing him from an already thin sleep. Teeth clicking together, Marc cracked his neck, then his shoulders, and finally his knuckles. As he moved a thing layer of sweat snapped between his exposed arms and the sleeves of his leather jacket. Marc adjusted the thick black sunglasses he wore and felt a hole burning into the side of his head. 

 

Brown hair, well shaped, and almond eyes. Cute. Marc lifted an eyebrow at him and smiled at the man to his left across the aisle. Not a real smile. A softer, gentler, smile that guys seemed to like. The other man smirked and straightened the cuffs of his suit jacket. 

 

_Perfect,_ Marc thought. He’d been bored and alone for two weeks now. Too busy planning their trip to Los Santos to go out and play around. Mr. Almond eyes seemed like a delight. Marc could see the glitter of a watch when the man adjusted. Marc was happy to have a trinket to grab along with his fun. 

 

The seatbelt light flicked off and before the sound had rung out Marc was already stepping into the aisle with his black, canvas, backpack slung over one shoulder. His long legs accented by his chunky heeled boots. Marc made sure to drag their fingertips across Mr. Almond eye’s shoulder as he strode off the plane.

 

* * *

 

It was really all too easy. 

 

One knee propped up on the wall Marc leaned his head into Mr. Almond eye’s neck and ground his hips down again. Guiding himself down again and again, Marc grinned as he heard Mr. Almond eyes gasp. It was funny how the seemingly dominant man that dragged Marc into the bathroom stall melted away into this gasping, moaning, puddle. 

 

Marc was high off of all of it, he had already nabbed the man’s watch and slid into his jacket before he was on top of him. Mr. Almond eyes didn’t seem to have much to offer besides feeble encouragements. 

 

_Such a pity a pretty man with nothing underneath,_ Marc mused with s quiet chuckle. Beggars can’t be choosers and from the raising pitch of Mr. Almond eyes moans it seemed Marc wouldn’t have to hold out much other. 

 

Marc honestly didn’t have any ulterior motives when he followed the man into the bathroom. A quick fuck and a pretty watch, nothing spectacular. Mr. Almond eyes had to go and screw it all up. 

 

“I… I, I wanna see you.” He said, his voice shaking.

 

“I’m right here, I got you,” Marc replied lazily, grinding his hips down again, this time gentler.

 

“No.” Mr. Almond eyes said, this time with more determination. “I wanna see you.” Now looking directly into Marc’s sunglasses.

 

“No,” Marc said bluntly and Mr. Almond eye’s whined, placing his hands on Marc’s shoulders. Thinking the matter done with Marc resumed his rhythm, building up momentum with a new tension held in the small of his back. 

 

Perhaps it was too simple, because right as it seemed Mr. Almond eyes was about to cum and let this whole ordeal be finished he there his hands backfire Marc’s shoulders and against the stall wall, knocking off Marc’s glasses in the process.

 

_Shit shit shit shit shit._ Marc repeated as he felt his bare eyes meeting Mr. Almond’s eyes. That seemed to be the last push he needed and Marc’s internal cursing was accented by Mr. Almond eye’s rolling his eye back into his skull. Letting out one final moan as he came. 

 

Without hesitation, Marc wrapped his hands around the sides of the other man’s neck, as though he may kiss him. Instead, Marc used his elbows as leverage to squeeze Mr. Almond eyes neck, effectively cutting off all blood to the brain. Their eyes met once more as Mr. Almond eyes began to flail but the combination of euphoria and choking seemed to drown the man in sensation. 

 

Whether he passed out from shock or blood loss Marc couldn’t say, but he didn’t remove his hands until he held the last traces of Mr. Almond eye’s sweet pulse drum out. Then it was just Marc and a corpse. Unfortunately still quite intimately connected and Marc spends an inordinate amount of time trying to disentangle themselves from the freshly deceased before being able to begin his real work.

 

_A watch is not with this kind of trouble,_ Marc thought bitterly as he grabbed a pair of latex gloves from his backpack, which had been discarded to the floor at the beginning of all this. Rifling through his small box of prescriptions and ‘prescription’ medication Marc grabbed a thin boning knife that he kept hidden with his needles. 

 

Biting down on the hilt of the knife Marc layered his leather gloves on top of the latex ones. Looking back at Mr. Almond eyes who was now crumpled and exposed on the floor Marc couldn’t help but smile. He was really a pretty man. 

 

Lifting one wrist Marc began to use the boning knife to peel back a band of skin starting at the base of the man’s palm. Once he had a strip about two inches wide Marc slid the skin off of the man’s arm and tossed into the toilet behind him. He then repeated the procedure to the other wrist, discarding it as well. 

 

Rocking back on his heels, Marc looked at the exposed lines of tendon and muscle that was leaking blood in a steady, thick, stream. Smiling again he took his gloved finger and speared the tendons of the corpse’s inner wrist, sucking in a breath at the overwhelming heat. Extracting his hand Marc spread the blood between his thumb and forefinger. Watching the elasticity snap as he stretched it back and forth.

 

Snapping back to the task at hand Marc took his blade and slid it along the corpse’s jawline, slicing and peeling till he had a thin scarf of skin laid out across his arms. Looking down at the smooth rich consistency of the skin Marc decides that perhaps this is worth the trouble. 

 

Laying the skin across the corpse Marc lays out layers of toilet paper and folds the long strip of skin into the paper. Folding it almost how someone would a puff pastry. Of course, then he remembers he doesn’t have any contacts in his backpack so he can’t leave a picture. If he couldn’t mark his kill well then he might as well not bother putting in the effort at all.

 

Huffing, Marc tosses the wrapped skin into the toilet with the others and flushes it all away. _I won’t let this all go to waste,_ he thinks stubbornly. Going back to his back of meds Marc pulls out a vial of off-white cream. 

 

“Pretty little anaerobes,” Marc coos softly, as he slathers the cream in thin layers across the exposed skin on the corpse. The smell of rapid decay hitting just as Marc had stood to leave the stall. Stashing his gloves and the vial in his backpack Marc does only final once over in the mirror to make sure he looks reasonable before striding out of the bathroom with no one the wiser. 

 

* * *

 

Satisfied and dreamy, Marc spent the rest of the day unpacking his new apartment from the boxes he had shipped to Los Santos a few days prior. Discarding his jacket arc worked with his arms on display and the full sleeves of floral tattoos glistened with his exertion. After a while, Marc had to take his hair, which was sticking to the back of his neck and tie it up in a loose bun. Of course tendrils of white fly-aways found their way into Marc’s face. Sighing, Marc slid them back and kept moving the boxes into different parts of his surprisingly spacious apartment. 

 

It was ridiculous how much cheaper apartments were in the “bad” parts of town. Marc was able to rent a two bedroom apartment with a study in a fairly new building all because the other patrons have recently come out as more unsavory and the number of break-ins had skyrocketed.

 

Unsavory was also putting it very harshly. It seemed to be wealthy businessmen laundering money from their own companies. Nothing that concerned Marc. Even the break-ins seemed trivial, they were always at night and had a tendency of scaring more people than taking them down to the bank.

 

When the sun was set heavy into the sky, Marc settled into the couch with a can of Dr. Pepper and switched on the news. Standard, standard, weather, standard. The longer Marc watched the more dejected he got, he moved to Los Santos with the hope the town could keep up with his speed, but the news was telling a different story. Just as he was about the switch of the tv a new headline spat out in red, “The Vagabond Strikes Again?” 

 

“The Vagabond?” Marc asked quietly to the room, settling back in. 

 

_“It seems the Vagabond has struck again today.” The newscaster read slight tremors in her voice. “For his seemingly third isolated victim this month a young Eric Dovenar was found dead in a bathroom stall of the Los Santos airport. Reports are still disputed on the likely hood of this attack being the Vagabond or perhaps a copycat. All we know that Eric was found some hours after he had been strangled and skinned. Reports on the scene report some sort of fungi spores to be festering into the exposed interior of Eric’s corpse.” The woman appeared slightly unnerved by the story but not as surprised as Marc has expected. “That’s all we know so far, as always if you have any information about the Vagabond or his potential copycats please do not hesitate and call the authorities. I’m…”_

 

Marc didn’t need to hear any more. A wide Cheshire grin spread across his face. “The Vagabond.” He mused, washing his empty can and throwing it into the recycling. “Vagabonds?” He pondered with great amusement. 

 

_Perhaps there is a place for me after all._ Marc thought when he eventually laid into bed. He’d never meant to be a copycat but obviously there some research to be done on how Marc was going to fit into the world of the Vagabond. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is my first fic in quite some year's, this is also my first Vagabond fic. So this is all very new and exciting. Sorry for any mistakes, I do my best to proofread but some things slip past me. If you wanna grab me I'm over at ray-to-the-max.tumbl.com 
> 
> Hopefully, there should be two more chapters coming in the next week or so, after that I'm not sure where this piece is going. If you have any suggestions let me know!


End file.
